


Rose Video Employee Health and Safety Series

by ktface3



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, Brokeback Mountain References, Closeted Character, Episode: s04e07 The Barbecue, Gay, Gay Male Character, High School, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Oral Sex, POV Patrick Brewer, Rose Video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27706999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktface3/pseuds/ktface3
Summary: High school junior Patrick Brewer never dreamed he’d have a sexual awakening from an employee orientation video.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Rachel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Rose Video Employee Health and Safety Series

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first fanfic I’ve written in about 8 years, so I’m still warming up the ol’ writing muscles. This is also unbeta’ed, so please be forgiving of any small mistakes. If you’re interested in beta’ing any potential future works, please let me know!
> 
> I just finished my second rewatch of SC and love how rich the show is with unexplored content. The idea for this one shot came up after watching S4 Ep7, The Barbecue, the lines quoted at the beginning of the story are from that episode. 
> 
> I’ve estimated a timeline of when Patrick could’ve been in high school to the best of my ability.

“You know um, this wasn't actually the first time that I've been put to work by the Rose family. My first job in high school was actually at a Rose Video.”

“Get outta town! What branch?”

“785.”

“785. Impressive late fees.”

“Thank you.”

***

March 2006

“Hey, Pickles!” Brock shouts at me as I walk to the student parking lot. “Where are you going? We have practice today!”

I stop and turn to him as he half-jogs toward me. Brock is a tall dude, and it’s a little unnerving to see him rushing at me, especially because he looks kind of like bigfoot with his shaggy hair and winter coat.

It’s the beginning of baseball season, and is still very cold outside. The snow is gone, but the wind whips through the parking lot and I hug my own coat tighter.

“I told Coach I couldn’t make it today, I just started a new job and I have to go in for orientation.”

“Nice! Way to go, Pickles!” Brock gives me a high five. “Where at?”

“Rose Video.”

“Oh man, that’s hilarious! I can’t believe they’re even still in business, I just bootleg all my movies now,” he says absentmindedly, then realizing with a cough, “But, uh, I hope it works out for you, man.”

I shrug, “I just need to make enough for the next couple months to afford a corsage and a limo for Rachel’s junior prom. After that, I don’t care, they can go bankrupt.”

“Oh yeah, how are things going with Rachel?” he asks as another gust of wind hits us.

I’d rather not be standing out here in the cold talking about this. I don’t want to tell Brock that Rachel basically demanded that we get back together, whether I like it or not. I was hesitant about it, but then she brought up her prom, and how since my school doesn’t have one, she wanted me to get the full experience, and it will be more fun if we’re together.

When she asked why we even broke up in the first place, I told her it was because I was unsure of my feelings. I could tell she half expected us to be those high school sweethearts who end up getting married, and I didn’t know if I wanted that. I still don’t know if that’s what I want. She promised me we could take it slow this time around.

“Better this time, I think,” I answer him. “She says I just need to talk to her more about what I’m feeling.”

Brock scoffs, “Chicks, man. They always want to talk and talk and talk. But, they’re a necessary evil, right? Cause I’m not down with that Brokeback Mountain shit!”

He laughs loudly at his own joke, and I chuckle with him. Homophobia runs rampant at our all-boys school, and I’ve learned it’s just easier to laugh along with it.

The wind gusts pick up again, and I tighten my hold on my jacket. “Okay, well I’ll see you at practice on Thursday.”

“You got it, Pickles. Catch ya later,” Brock says as we high five and he turns back toward school.

***

“We’re almost done with your orientation, Patrick,” says Mr. Gibson, looking at his clipboard and checking off items. “All we have left is the Employee Health and Safety video. Now, I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s a little low-budget. I’m pretty sure the CEO’s wife and kids are in it. Have you ever seen Sunrise Bay? My wife loves that show, she recognized the actress…”

I smile politely and try my best not to look impatient as Mr. Gibson goes off on yet another tangent. Luckily, he looks over at me from across the table in the small break room and notices my quiet exasperation.

“Anyway,” he chuckles to himself, “it only takes a half hour and then you can be outta here. You still good to work Friday night? That’s the night the middle school riffraff come in.”

I nod, “Definitely. They won’t put anything past me.”

“Great!” Mr. Gibson pops in an old VHS tape and turns on the small TV sitting on top of it, and the video starts in what looks like the middle of a scene. Mr. Gibson hits pause and says, “Oh shoot, I forgot to rewind it—”

“Mr. Gibson?” my coworker, Ryan, pops his head into the break room. “Mrs. Pryor is trying to rent another movie without paying her late fees.”

A look of determination spreads across Mr. Gibson’s face, and he says in a low voice, “Not on my watch. I’ll be right there.” He turns toward me and tells me, “This lady’s always giving us trouble. If I’m not back by the time the video ends, just rewind it to the beginning, leave it on the table, and you’ll be free to go.”

“Will do,” I smile as he hikes up his pants and marches to the door. I turn back to the video and find it still paused on the sight of a guy about my age sitting on the ground with his arms thrown up in the air as a slightly younger girl kneels next to him.

The girl looks… trendy. She’s very tan and has a flowy crop top and low rise jeans on, and you can see a glint of jewelry on her bare midriff from what appears to be a belly button piercing.

The guy is dressed in a black and white and neon t-shirt with lots of bracelets and necklaces, and has heavy eyeliner on and jagged bangs that fall into his face. He looks like the inside of a Hot Topic, at least I think so based on what I’ve seen walking past that store in the mall.

“Can’t wait to see what that’s about,” I sigh to myself as I hit rewind.

***

I can’t sleep. I’ve been in bed for almost an hour tossing and turning. I consider the rest of my evening: I got home from Rose Video just in time for dinner, and homework didn’t take too long after that. Nothing too strenuous there.

Rachel called for our nightly chat and told me all about some drama happening in her friend group, but honestly, it’s hard to follow her stories when half of her friends are named Caitlin.

Then it dawns on me.

As we were signing off, she slipped and said, “love you.” And I froze.

I didn’t know if I should say it back or not. I had said it to her when we dated before, it seemed like the right thing to reciprocate after she told me her feelings. But we agreed not to say it when we got back together. It was one of those things that put too much pressure on the relationship.

Before I could say anything, she apologized and hung up.

Thinking about it now, I realize that one little slip definitely put the pressure back on, even though I tried not to let it. The pressure to be this perfect boyfriend, to get her flowers and a limo and have an awesome time at prom and take cutesy photos that we’ll tell our kids about in 20 years.

Do I want that?

I don’t know.

I sigh and try not to think about Rachel, but I can feel that my body is too tense to sleep. I know what usually helps me relax, so I sit up a little in bed and grab some lotion from the nightstand. I wiggle out of my boxers just enough to free myself and start stroking slowly.

I know I’m supposed to think of Rachel. It’s what a good boyfriend would do, right? But I’m trying to take my mind off of her right now.

A small wave of guilt washes over me as my brain searches for other inspiration.

As I get going faster, I flip through a mental catalogue of women celebrities and realize a lot of the images in my mind are actually movie posters that are hung up at work. That reminds me of that training video I had to watch today, and the Paris Hilton lookalike and her raver costar.

I try to recall the scene they did—

_The boy skulks onto the screen, sneaking disgusted glances right into the camera, and pretends to slip on something. He ungracefully collapses onto the floor and shouts in a clipped tone, “Ouch! I hurt my knee!”_

_The girl, who is supposed to be the employee, comes on looking bored. “Oh, so like, just so you know, we’re not liable for any on site injuries,” she deadpans as she texts on her pink Moto RAZR._

_An older woman who must be the actress Mr. Gibson was talking about pops into view for a fraction of a moment, saying, “Let’s rewind, and try again!”_

_The boy struggles to get up off the floor and sighs frustratedly. It’s funny and almost endearing to see him reach out for the girl’s hand, only to be ignored and have to hoist himself up on his own._

_He adjusts his many accessories and they do the scene again, this time with her coming to his aid when he falls. She kneels and puts an ice pack on his knee, and he gives her a disingenuous smile in return._

My mind’s eye flips between the two of them, and I try to concentrate on the girl. She’s cute by anyone’s standards, but seems too shallow for my taste. I try to picture her stroking me, but I can’t shake the feeling that even though _she’d_ be the one pleasuring _me_ , she would find some way to make it all about her.

And if I’m being totally honest, she just doesn’t do it for me.

My mind nags me to think of the boy stroking me, and I freeze when I realize what I’m thinking. I can’t let myself do that. It’s just not who I am. I’m Patrick. Sweet, nice, Patrick, who does DECA and baseball and plays guitar, with parents who love me and want the best for me. With a loving girlfriend who can’t seem to quit me—

Oh god, now I’m just thinking of Brokeback Mountain.

When I saw that movie with my friends, they laughed through the whole thing, and I laughed with them.

It’s easier to just laugh with them.

I can’t end up like Jake Gyllenhaal did. But a little part of me thinks of the few blissful moments he found with Heath Ledger, and I feel a wanting deep in my soul for that.

Could I find that kind of happiness?

I don’t know.

I let out a grunt, annoyed with myself, and grab some more lotion.

“Let’s just finish this and be done with it,” I whisper to myself.

I shut my eyes tight and give in to my thoughts.

The boy is here, in my bed, stroking me hard and fast. He’s right up next to me, and I can feel his breath on my face and his hair tickles my cheek. “Patrick…” he whispers seductively, and he starts to kiss my neck, my collarbone, and kisses his way down my chest.

He flicks his tongue on each of my nipples, sending shivers down my spine, and then adjusts his body to place himself face to face with my dick.

He takes me in his mouth and starts to bob up and down. As he gains speed, one of his hands reaches down to cup my balls. I grab his hair and buck my hips up into him, and he groans in pleasure. I look down at him and am mesmerized by the site of him taking me in and out, and I notice with his other hand he’s stroking himself hard and fast.

It’s hot inside his mouth, and he can take me in so deep, and his thumb is pressing just the right spot on my taint, and, is his finger moving even further back toward my—

“Oh, fuck!” I gasp as I spill my load onto my chest.

My eyes fly open and adjust to the darkness of my bedroom. I try to control my breathing as my dick starts to soften.

What have I done?

Embarrassment washes over me. I quickly grab the tissues off the nightstand and wipe myself up, praying that I didn’t make too much noise and no one in my family is coming to check on me. After I’m clean I rearrange myself back in bed, willing myself to be calm.

My body feels less tense than before, but my mind is reeling.

I decide at that moment that this was a one-time thing. A fluke. An accident. It’s something that would be _really_ hard to explain to my parents and Rachel and Brock and the other guys at school if I gave into it.

It just can’t happen.

So it won’t.

I make up my mind to repress the whole thing, then turn over and close my eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> David’s ~look~ was inspired by this fanart: https://www.reddit.com/r/SchittsCreek/comments/cw7hqh/unless_you_were_into_candy_ravers_with/
> 
> DECA (Distributive Education Clubs of America) is an association of marketing students that encourages the development of business and leadership skills through academic conferences and competitions. So, something Patrick would probably be into.
> 
> Brokeback Mountain was in theaters during the winter of 2006, just a couple months before this story takes place. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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